Cigarette
by lostsword
Summary: After a traumatizing event and a big fight, Greg has fallen in with the wrong crowd. Will our beloved hero come out unscratched? Will he come out at all? Will he want to? What happened exactly and how does Angie fit into this? AngieXGreg RodrickXOC
1. Chapter I: Memories

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DIARY OF A WIMPY KID OR ITS AFFILIATES

Chapter I: Memories

The sharp retort of Coach Malone's highly polished silver whistle echoed shrilly across the football field of Westmore middle school, officially signaling the start of third period physical education. The next fifty five minutes would be pure hell as the larger, brutish looking, boys of the class pounded wildly into the smaller, pathetic looking, boys of the class.

Gregory Heffley could care less.

He proved this by turning away from the sad scene of doom and destruction without the slightest care in the world before reaching into his back pocket. From his back right pocket he withdrew a battered and nearly empty packet of Marlboros; Greg took two cigarettes from the packet and then returned the white carton back to his right back pocket.

"Want a smoke?" Greg asked his companion while simultaneously searching his back left pocket for his gray colored Zippo lighter.

"That stuff is terrible for your health," Angeline Steadman said with disdain before she returned her focus to the leather bound novel resting in her soft hands. The journalist refused to acknowledge Greg's offered white stick of death and instead continued to read her latest book with renewed gusto.

"Suit yourself," Greg said and returned the second cigarette to the carton hidden from sight in the back of his faded jeans. The formerly ambitious teenager reclined backwards until he was laying completely flat on his back within the soft, healthy, and bright green grass that was hidden beneath the bleachers bordering the football field and the soccer field.

A semi-awkward silence filled the concentrated atmosphere that permeated the air of their small hideaway from the world. Angie was determined to ignore Greg and read her book in silence, Greg was determined to ignore Angie and smoke his cigarette.

Angie came to a chapter ending and immediately swore mentally. There was no way she would start a new chapter until she had told Greg all about the last chapter; it helped her unload all of the information she had just ingested and his feedback—which she had to coerce out of him every time—ultimately helped her understand the significance of the book all the more.

The one hundred average in her advanced English class online depended on that unloading-feedback arrangement. If she wanted to avoid taking English classes for the next five years—something she very dearly hoped to accomplish—then she had to talk to Greg about her book.

Crap.

In an effort to stall for time, Agnie decided to focus on Greg and the rather colorful end to the previous school year. A lot had changed, that was for sure; Greg was a darker and quieter version of the ambitious and ambient sixth grader she had met last year; Rowley Jefforson was a superstar jerk and no longer associated with either of his two former best friends; Angie was the head editor of the school paper and had died a section of her hair blue to go with the pink.

Chirag Gupta and his family had moved to a new state over the summer and was now going to a new school. Fregley had been expelled on the last day of the previous school year and was also now attending a new school. Patty had started dating Rowley and was at the height of a new level of middle school popularity. Colin Lee had become the newest and greatest rising star on the football team and had formed with Patty and Rowley the Popular Trinity of Westmore Middle School.

Oh, and Greg had asked her out and they were supposedly in a relationship now.

Greg, still laying on his back on the soft green grass, was also trying to stall for time and rather than focus on the events of the past—all of which, save the last one, he loathed with the utmost hate—he focused instead on his girlfriend.

Angie was slightly taller—just like every other awkward middle schooler going through the uneasy stage of puberty in the hellhole known as Westmore. She had cut her hair back to her neckline over the summer, but her blonde hair with its pink and blue highlights was slowly regrowing to its original length.

Her jeans were a little tighter now—and fuller—just like her shirts, but other than a few more hoodie-sweatpant combinations, the journalist's style of dress had changed very little. She was the only one who had really remained the same, everyone else had shifted like a mountain's rocky face after an avalanche.

Fregley had left.

Patty had somehow rid the school from the Second Cheese Touch Apocalypse and become the most popular girl in school.

Colin was a man-whore and ruled the school with Patty and her boyfriend—the _betrayer_.

Rowely had died.

Well...Greg had wished he had died, but fate had ignored him like always and made Rowely seem like a living god to their peers at Westmore Middle School.

Why couldn't he have died?

Greg ignored those thoughts and took another drag from his cigarette before reaching under him to dig out a new one—his current one wasn't as strong anymore.

"Greg?" Angie said suddenly, stopping her boyfriend mid-draw as she chose that particular moment to reluctantly break their long and awkward moment of silence.

"Yeah?" Greg responded as he left the desired cigarette inside the carton in his back right pocket and turned onto his side so that he could face his girlfriend.

"Why does this keep happening?" Angie asked.

"I don't know," Greg replied honestly, "I'm sorry..." he said seriously and pulled himself to his feet so that he could walk over to Agnie and sit next to her. "It's just all the memories of last year are coming back I guess," Greg said.

"Yeah...I'm sorry about..." Angie started to say, only for Greg to lean forward slowly and kiss her.

The kiss was magical and her body filled with a fiery warmth that pushed off any sense of unease or uncertainty in the eight grader's mind. She sighed into the kiss and felt Greg wrap his arms around her waist in order to deepen it.

They eventually broke apart and Angie felt Greg pull her closer to him. "Don't worry about..._him_..." Greg told her as he glanced at her book. "Tell me about the chapter," he said, "I bet the heroine died again," he teased.

Angie rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend. "As if. That only happened twice," she informed him solemnly before she broke into a feverish tirade about the latest happenings of her newest book.

Greg gave her an equally feverish string of feedback that yet again astounded her supposedly more intelligent mind. They teased each other and ended up kissing until the bell. Angie ran off to fourth period math. Greg skipped school for the rest of the day.

Both could only wonder how long it would be until they wound up in another awkward silence.


	2. Chapter II: Raving

Chapter 2: Raving

The music was blaring out across the room as Greg bounced in sync with the music. Though he was normally docile and lazy, the middle child of the Heffley family was flailing around like a monkey on cocaine. A bottle of bad booze preceded by a pack of cigarettes and followed by several shots of hard alcohol had led Greg to wake up as only the owner of a broken soul could.

_Fire up that loud! Another round of shots!_

Greg and those around him cried out in drunken joy as they took more shots in tune to the music.

_TURN DOWN FOR WHAT?!_

And then it was back to the party.

The music cranked up and the bass began to thumb heavily with the loud music and soon Greg was lost in a sea of drunken motion. The beats increased and the drinking continued on as everyone moved in sync. Everyone was moving.

Everyone but one.

She hated seeing him like this, yet she couldn't force herself to stay home. Greg had invited her originally as a courtesy. She had continued to invite herself along because she was privately terrified as to what would happen if she left him alone like this. The pain that Greg refused to allow to fade was drained out each night by alcohol and heavy music.

_We're the animals!_

While Greg was out in the center of the room grinding and moshing, Angie remained behind. Not because she couldn't go out there and rock the floor, but because she didn't want to. She had seen just how Greg had turned out and she was determined to remain somewhat coherent tonight.

That didn't stop her—a very underage minor—from drinking at a moderate pace, of course. She needed the aid if she were to keep Greg from winding up somewhere he didn't want to end up.

"Hey baby! Want to dance?"

Rolling her eyes, Angie ignored the plastered teenager and made her way to another lounge area. She dropped down into a plush recliner and sipped at her beverage—some awfully appealing mixture of cheap whiskey and bud light—while keeping her eyes on Greg.

The brown haired teen was bouncing up and down like a maniac and everyone else seemed to be doing the exact same thing. It was oddly intimidating, yet also intimately moving. She was again tempted to join in, but she reminded herself as to why she was where she was.

_Don't you worry, don't you worry child!_

This had all started back when Greg was first trying to cope with Rowley's cruel severance of the friendship the two boys had shared. Her childhood crush had moped around all day every day, the only alternative was an unbelievable surge of anger. Rodrick, for whatever reason, had taken Greg with him to a party he was throwing.

Angie had gotten a text at eight from Greg saying he was getting ready for a party. She didn't hear from him again until five the next afternoon. Apparently the party had gone on until seven in the morning and Greg had passed out in the driveway. The hangover he had been sporting and the weed reeking off his clothes had motivated Angie to convince Greg to never go to a party again.

He had agreed at first, but it quickly became apparent to Greg that the only time his pain went away was when he was too wasted to feel it. He had snuck out just once to another party with his brother and had ended up in a three car collision at two in the morning.

_ Well life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes, well that's fine by me._

She had hidden him in her closet and a testament to Greg's luck was that not a single shred of evidence could be found to indicate he had been in the car. The older teenager behind the wheel had been sent to a judge on a number of startling charges—among them driving under the influence and drug possession—where he was ultimately found guilty and sent to a youth correctional facility for the next eight months.

After that, Angie had taken Greg up on his half-conscious and drunken offer to party with him sometime.

So here she was, watching her boyfriend destroy himself at a slower pace than he might have done originally. The silver lining in it all was that at least with this route, she had time to get him to hop off the train before it hit the mountain wall.

Toulouse started to blare and she could see Greg's body light up. There were no words to hear this time around, just hard bass beats and electronic pulse waves. The music belted out so heavily that the liquid in Angie's drink was shaking. The floor was humming to the point where she feared the planks would splinter. People went crazy.

Angie got a bit lost up in it herself, despite her determined efforts to remain removed from the madness. She was already a bit drunk and in the process of fleeing from one would-be pick-up she had ended up on the fringes of the mosh pit.

Then she started dancing.

_I'm laid-back, I'm feeling this, tonight's the night and I just wanna let it go!_

She would never remember where or how or why, but Greg ended up behind her. The alcohol started to suddenly make _everything_ feel nice and when Greg moved against her, she was immediately aware as to why he enjoyed this sort of thing so much.

_Hit the play back, I know your feeling this, c'mon baby, lets get ridiculous!  
><em>

* * *

><p>They wound up in her backyard, both half gone, making out viciously. They had left the party awhile ago and somehow they had stumbled back to her house. It was somewhere between four and five in the morning and a minor miracle had been bestowed upon them because they had yet to be caught.<p>

"I really...really...room...I need my...my room," Angie slurred out as she grabbed Greg gruffly.

"I like that...sounds fun."

"_Alone_, silly..." Angie giggled, though she was horribly off key.

"But I hate sleeping alone!" Greg pouted perfectly as he nibbled at her ear lobe. Angie gasped at the contact and pulled him closer. There was still enough alcohol in their systems to allow them to go farther if they were in the mind to, but the thought of being caught was enough to sober Greg up somewhat.

"I...I should go."

"I want you to...to stay."

How the tables had turned like this, Greg would never know—not that he would recall much of this later anyways. The Heffley boy ended up convincing Angie to go inside, at least that's what he hoped he had said. In the end, he had kissed her and then stumbled off.

Neither would realize until the morning came just what they had almost done.


End file.
